


To Be Free

by lionsuicide



Series: SpideyPool Is My New Ship [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Eventual Peter Parker/Wade Wilson, First Attempt At SpideyPool, M/M, POV Wade Wilson, Suicide Attempt, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-05-20 07:43:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14890415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionsuicide/pseuds/lionsuicide
Summary: One Who Is Trapped Inside Himself Will Do Anything to Be Free….





	1. Chapter 1

I’m so tired of it all.

Everyone expects me to be happy go lucky, funny, loud, obnoxious, bubbly, fun, so on and so fucking forth.

They see the Merc with mouth, the man who never shuts up, the man who will literally laugh in the face of death because he thought of some inappropriate joke in that moment.

People only see me skin deep or as it were red and black leather suit deep.

They don’t see _me._

To be honest I’m sick of that shit.

Fed up.

Done.

Over it.

The last person to see me as me was Vanessa. The love of my life. The cherry to my ice cream. The sun to my sky. The …

**_She was everything._ **

Even after four years I still can’t over her.

I don’t _want_ to get over her.

 

I sigh.

 

As I sit upon this despite bridge, gazing over the skyline of New York City, I can’t help but notice the beauty of it all.

 

The feeling of self loathing and anger well up inside me.

 

I hate it.

 

I fucking **loathe** it.

 

I hate this city.

I hate the lights of this city.

I hate the people of this city.

 

No matter what I do, no matter how hard I fucking try I am always the villain.

 

Yes I admit I unalive people, but I don’t do it just for shits and giggles. Well… not anymore anyway. I only hurt those who hurt others.

 

Does anyone care about that? No!

 

To their eyes those people never deserved to die.

Those people were saints, angels, and whatever other bullshit word you want to use to describe good people.

 

Everyone forgets about the child they raped, or the girl they beat up, or the building they burned down killing 10 innocent people and injuring 5 others.

 

Fuck that.

 

Fuck that straight to Hell and back.

 

I’m done trying.

 

I’m not a hero. Never have been, never will be.

 

I throw the empty bottle of Jack Daniels into the empty street below me. The shattering sound is loud in the top quiet night.

 

Alcohol doesn’t affect me anymore. Hasn’t since before Project X.

 

Sadness tries to make it way to the front of my being but I beat that shit back with a stick.

 

I don’t have time to be sad.

Better yet… I don’t want to feel sad.

 

Being sad makes me feel lonely and I’m really don’t want to open that can of worm right now.

 

I reach behind me and grab the unopened bottle of Jack Daniels.

Just because it doesn’t affect me doesn’t mean I don’t like the way it burns when I drink it.

 

Another sigh.

 

Where was I going with this whole rambling? I forgot over all the self pitying going on.

 

……

……

……

……

……

……

……

……

……

……

……

……

……

……

……

……

Oh yeah! I’m tired of no one seeing me for me.

 

Is it so hard for someone to ask me if I’m ok? Yeah I never act like I’m down or depressed or whatever but like you would think someone would ask.

“Hey Deadpool you good?”

Hey Deadpool I notice that you slightly hesitated while stabbing that bad man, are you ok? Do you need someone to talk to?”

“Deadpool my main squeeze your jokes are a little stale today, is everything alright?”

Something!

But nooOOoo.

All I get is hated on.

 

I’m so tired of it all.

 

I want someone to sit down and listen to me as I tell them my story.

 

I want someone to hold me tight and never let me go.

 

I want someone to not flinch away in disgust and fear after seeing me without my leather suit.

I want a safe place to go.

I want so, so much.

 

A tear slips down my face.

 

…. oh shit! I didn’t tell you? I don’t have my suit on tonight. I don’t have much on really.

My fugly mug and body is out for display.

I only have on a pair of _sexy_ Spiderman pjs.

 

Another tear slips out.

 

I hate my body.

I hate being stuck inside my head.

I hate my life.

I hate everything.

 

I have no friends, no family, no significant other.

I am uglier than the elephant man

I have more blood on my hands than there is water in the Nile river.

 

I try to take another sip at the bottle only to find out it’s empty.

 

Huh? When the fuck did that happen?

 

How long have I been out here?

 

Why am I even asking? It’s not like I have any other place to go or anyone to meet.

 

It’s just little ol’ me, myself, and I.

 

I throw the bottle as far as I can. The shattering sound is muffled but still just as satisfying.

 

A mirthless laugh escapes me.

 

I am just as shattered of not more shattered than that bottle.

 

I bring my hands up to my face and rub my blurry and probably puffy eyes.

 

I give up.

 

I, ladies and gentlemen, Wade Wilson aka Deadpool aka Merc With A Mouth, give the fuck up.

 

Life hasn’t been rainbows and unicorns for me but I have finally hit rock bottom. If there’s something lower than rock bottom I would probably hit that instead but I’m not sure if that’s a thing so yeah… rock bottom.

 

The tears fall faster and my nose runs.

 

The dam of emotion breaks and I’m overwhelmed with them all.  

 

Anger.

Self loathing and self pity.

Sadness.

Loneliness.

Shame.

Betrayal.

Guilt.

Restlessness.

Embarrassment.

 

All run rampant in my mind, my body, my nonexistent soul.

 

I can’t take this anymore.

 

A sob rips through my chest.

My heart aches worse than any heart attack.

I clutch at my chest hoping to alleviate the pain to no effect.

My body shakes hard as I gasp for breath.

The oxygen deprivation tank was a play toy compared to this.

 

My suicide attempts have always failed before and I have no hope that this one will be any different but I still feel the urge, the need to try.

 

I stand up and place my hands on the bars behind me. I glance down at the still empty street.

 

One shaky breath.

Two shaky breaths.

Three shaky breaths.

 

I slowly unclench my hands and lean forward.

 

I begin my descent.

 

This will not end my eternal suffering, not by a long shot nothing ever does but at least I’ll feel numb for a while. If I’m lucky I’ll be out for the rest of the day, if I’m unfortunate I’ll be up again within the hour.

 

The air caress my body as I fall in what seems like slow motion.

The tears fly upward as I fall downward.

The ground quickly rising up to greet me. Just before I hit the pavement something grabs my foot and stops me just inches from the ground.

That same something yanks me up until I am hoisted over the railing I just let go of and drops me hard onto the road.

 

**_What. The. Fuck._ **

 

“..... k?”

 

You have got to be shitting me. You have one job as a writer and that’s to let me die and you can’t even do that right?

NoooOooo you had to make someone rescue me? Honestly I can’t tell if that’s bad or lazy writing. Probably both!

 

Before I can rip a new one to the writer of this story a voice breaks through my thoughts.

 

“Sir? Stay with me ok? I’m gonna get you to the hospital.”

 

Hospital?

No thank you!

 

I look over to where the concerned voice is.

 

Oh. Em. Motherfucking. Gee.

 

Holy shitknuckles Batman.

 

Spiderman!

 

I have just been saved by Spiderman!

 

The web slinging, spandex wearing, New York saving arachnid.

 

That just fucking sucks.

 

****

 


	2. Sometimes I Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What! No of course not,” Spiderman through his hands up in a placating manner, “ NO! Absolutely not! For one I don’t have hero friends. I actually don’t have any friends. Any that I had are dead, locked up, moved away, or in hiding. No friends to brag to. Secondly you aren’t just a job. I know what it’s like to want to give up, to want to end the pain, to end the suffering, to end the…,” he coughs into his hand in a poor attempt to cover up the wavering in his voice, “to end loneliness that life has dealt me. I know what it’s like to be sad, and angry. God I remember the anger. Anger at the world for shitting on me, anger at the people in my life for loving me then leaving me abruptly, anger at myself for letting it happen, anger at the damn spider and the corporation that made it thus making me who I am today, the anger at being helpless.” His hands clench and unclench, emotions thick in his voice.

> It’s strange. 

Looking up at your hero, being  _ Saved _ by your hero. 

It should be glorious and beautiful and fantastic and a wonderful moment but in reality it is not.

It actually really sucks. Like really really fucking sucks. 

Wade stares up at Spiderman from the ground. The world has slowed down, time feels like it has stopped, his vision blurs just a bit making everything look hazy.

The faint sounds of the city disappear. 

He can vaguely hear Spiderman speaking at him….  no, to him. 

Wade looks at the young looking superhero in front of him hard, stares at him in a mixture of shock, awe and slight anger. 

He does not blink or move a muscle, his eyes locked on the white lenses of the mask. Unlike himself he sits quietly, studying and reflecting on the last however minutes since he’s been rescued. 

Wade looks long enough that the man in front of him begins to squirm a little.

“Sir? Sir can you hear me? Everything’s going to be ok. It’s going to be alright. I’m gonna get you to a hospital so they can check over you.”  A deep voice says breaking through the muddled thoughts in Wade’s head, causing everything in the world to return to normal. 

_ He’s using a voice changer thing. _

“No no, baby boy. I’m fine, no hospital is required for little ol’ me.” Wade fakes a laugh and finally stands up to his full height.

He stretches his arms over his head, feels and hears a few bones shift back into place.

He self consciously folds his arms over his chest in a pathetic attempt to hide his mutilated, disgusting, disturbing, fucked up, burn victim look alike but somehow worse, always in pain, Freddy Krueger doppelgänger body. 

_ Jesus tap dancing Christ that’s depressing. Why am I like this? _

_ “ _ I have to get you to the hospital. Your head is bleeding! How can you no...sir I must insist that you allow me to take you to the emergency room...”

His voice fades off as Wade gently places his hand on his head and pulls it back to look and sees that it’s covered in blood. 

_ I must have hit my head off the pavement. That explains the hazy, slow motion feeling.  _

“Don’t worry about it Mr. Man. I’ll be right as rain in a few minutes. Not much can phase me nowadays.” 

Wade wipes his bloody hand on his pants. 

“See!” Wade takes his just cleaned hand and trails it through the blood showing off the as healed as it can get head. 

“I don’t need any hospitals or anything.” 

Spiderman hesitates about asking about where the blood came from, opens his mouth and closes it, instead says, “What the fu…um ok? Uhh well did you.. um … want to talk?” 

“Talk? ‘Bout what kid?” 

“I’m not a kid, nor am I your baby boy,” he pauses in thought, “I’ll let you keep Mr. man though.” 

“Meow! Put those claws away Spiderman. It’s just something I do for everyone. No need for being offended.” 

Normally Wade would make more jokes about this situation but in all honesty he just wasn’t feeling up to par. 

“So sir did you want to… um...talk?” 

“Wade.” 

“I’m sorry?”

“Wade. My name is Wade. You don’t have to keep calling me sir.” 

“Ok then. Wade. Did you want to talk?” 

“‘Bout what?”

The boy in the spandex inhaled through his nose like a parent would while trying to talk to a difficult child?”

“Anything. Everything. Nothing at all.”

Wade chuckles. 

“Trust me Spidey. You don’t want to this ol’ man. Most people get sick of hearing me speak after….. mmmm… two minutes and thirty six seconds.” 

Spiderman pauses. 

“Why does that sound like you time everyone who speaks to you?” Ignoring the nickname. 

Wade just smiles a bit and shrugs. 

“You are breaking records, Spiderman. Longest time anyone’s ever stayed to talk to me without threat of bodily harm, dismemberment, and/or death.” Normally Wade would laugh and clap his hands in exaggerated applause and dance around him and just be overly obnoxious until Spiderman decided to just push him off the bridge his own self, instead he just lets his smile drop and goes to sit in his previous spot on the ledge. 

He sees the man tense from the corner of his eye. 

With a sigh Wade says “Relax, I’m not going to jump again. Seems pointless since you're still here to catch me if I do. Come, sit.” Wade pats the ledge next to him. “Let’s ‘talk’.”

Spiderman slowly walks over to Wade and sits. His legs also dangling over the edge facing the city. 

“It’s funny you know. I’ve never in my life sat next to someone without the urge to talk their ear off. I’m always the loud one. The obnoxious one. The stupid one. The expendable one. The … I’m not a person anyone wants to be around.” Wade says quietly. “No one ever wants to sit next to me and just let me talk. They all think I have nothing important to say, which ninety five percent of the time is true I usually just like to ramble, but that other five percent of the time… well…” Wade trails off leaving the sentence unfinished. 

“I’ll listen to you Wade. If you want to ramble on about nothing, cool, I’m all ears If you want to talk seriously, that's alright, people say I’m a good listener. Although I have to put this disclaimer out there, don’t ask for advice. I am shit at giving advice. Last time that happened it killed my… my… well it left a person dead.” Spiderman looks off into the distance in silence, his body tense as if waiting for Wade to ask how his advice killed his person. The question never came. “If you want to sit in silence and stare at the city line all night, we can do that to.” 

“What about the other citizens? Don’t they need their friendly neighbor spider? You don’t have to waste time on this old shit stain.”

“Tonight…” a pause. A deep breath. “Tonight I am yours. The city can take care of itself. You are my priority right now. Not the city.” 

Anger slowly seeps into Wade’s being. “Am I just a job to you? Something to brag to your little hero friends about later on? ‘Oh guys I stopped a testicle with teeth looking mother fucker last night from jumping to his death.” 

Wade’s hands are clenched and he angrily looks at the city, wishing it would just burn to the ground in the moment taking every sad sack of shit down in a fiery blaze. 

“What! No of course not,” Spiderman through his hands up in a placating manner, “ NO! Absolutely not! For one I don’t have hero friends. I actually don’t have any friends. Any that I had are dead, locked up, moved away, or in hiding. No friends to brag to. Secondly you aren’t just a job. I know what it’s like to want to give up, to want to end the pain, to end the suffering, to end the…,” he coughs into his hand in a poor attempt to cover up the wavering in his voice, “to end loneliness that life has dealt me. I know what it’s like to be sad, and angry. God I remember the anger. Anger at the world for shitting on me, anger at the people in my life for loving me then leaving me abruptly, anger at myself for letting it happen, anger at the damn spider and the corporation that made it thus making me who I am today, the anger at being helpless.” His hands clench and unclench, emotions thick in his voice. “I know the feeling of wanting to scream and cry, to punch things, to make others feel just a fraction of the pain I feel,” his voice steadily getting louder,  “I get it, I wanted to be free. Free from responsibility, free from pain, free from anger, free from sorrow, free from love, free from hate, free from everything. I just wanted to be… free. And I thought death was the only way out...” he stops talking abruptly. 

Despite the mask covering his face, Wade could tell the Spiderman was off in his thoughts. Instead of breaking the silence like he is known for, they sit next to one another, each lost to his own issues. The anger that seeped into Wade’s body leaves, replacing it with numbness from the words spoken by the red and blue vigilante. 

A few moments later Spiderman speaks up albeit quietly.

“I was fortunate enough to have someone save me from myself. He was there when I needed him the most. He was there when no one else was. He made me realize my worth. He was a good man and I wish I could have repaid him for all the things he’s done for me. I want to help you like he helped me. I want to help you realize your own worth. I want you to be able to live, breath, walk and talk. I don’t want you to die.” 

Silence again. Wade wants to ask what happened to the man. Was he dead, locked up, or in hiding? He wants to ask what made him special? Why did Spidey care so much about a man he’s never met before. He wants to understand why go through the effort especially because after tonight how we he know if Wade lived or died? (Not that he can die but the point still stands) Wade wants to ask if Spidey knows one night won’t change the days and nights after. 

He doesn’t ask, Spiderman doesn’t offer. 

Neither know how long they sit on the bridge watching the city lights and listening to the cars going from one place to another. 

The silence is comfortable. 

_ This is a world record for me.  _  Wade offhandedly thinks. In normal situations, being left to his own bitter thoughts lead to bad decisions and broken body parts. 

Not this time. 

“Do you know who Tupac is baby boy?” Wade speaks softly breaking the calm silence without turning his head away from the beautiful yet disgusting city of New York City, for a moment forgetting about the ‘I am not your baby boy’ comment from earlier. 

“Of course. He’s a rapper that was shot in the chest and killed before his time. I don’t really listen to him but I can appreciate his music when the mood is right. Why do you ask?” Spiderman asks just as softly unwilling to break the peace, ignoring the nickname for the sake of peace. His masked face also looking towards the city.

“He’s not only a rapper you know. He was an actor and a poet as well. He was a very educated man who got into. some shit well above his head. He was taken way before his time,” Wade pauses, Spiderman stays quiet waiting for Wade to finish his thought, “he was a poet, a very talented poet. I read his poems all the time. When I’m alone, bored, lonely, or in a bad mood, they bring me a sense of peace. Sometimes it feels like I’m suffering alone and that I’m the only one who feels the way I feel but then I read his poems and the heavy weight upon my shoulder somewhat eases off. Not for long, never long enough, but just enough for me to shake off the worse thoughts. It’s soothing. He says the words I can’t and won’t say.” Wade trails off, he closes his eyes and wraps his arms arms around his waist curling in on himself, his breathing picking up just a bit, he shakes. His usually dormant emotions threatening to break free from the wall he built in his fragile mind.

Spiderman turns toward Wade, lifting one leg and placing it under the other. He lifts his hand as if to touch the other but decides against it. Instead he places his hands in his lap. 

“Which one is your favorite?”

“At the moment?”

“At the moment, of all time, yesterday…? It doesn’t matter to me.”

Wade can see the distraction attempt from a mile away. He knows the superhero just wants to keep him away from the dark thoughts swirling in his head. It doesn’t really work but he appreciates the effort.

“My favorite at the moment is called ‘Sometimes I Cry’, my all time favorite is ‘A Rose That Grew From Concrete’, and my favorite yesterday was ‘Forever and Today’.” 

Wade opens his eyes and looks over at the Spiderman. 

“Would you like to hear one?” 

Spiderman nods yes. 

Wade smiles just a little bit. 

_ “Sometimes when I’m alone   
_

_ I cry because I’m in my own _

_ The tears I cry are bitter and warm _

_ They flow with life but take no form  _

_ I cry because my heart is torn _

_ And I find it difficult to carry on  _

_ If I had an ear to confide in  _

_ I would cry cry among my treasured friends  _

_ But who do you know that stops that long  _

_ To help another carry on _

_ The world moves fast and it would rather pass you by  _

_ Than to stop and see what makes you cry _

_ It’s painful and sad and sometimes I cry _

_ And no one cares about why.” _

They both ignore the tears falling from Wade’s eyes. 

Spiderman drops his leg,scoots over, and wraps an arm around Wade laying his head on Wade’s shoulder, causing the later to tense up momentarily before relaxing in the half embrace. 

“That was beautiful. Will you tell me the other two?” 

“Not tonight baby boy. Those two are reserved for other stories the writer has planned out.” 

“Huh?”

“Shhhh my favorite little spider. Let’s just enjoy the rest of story in silence.” 

“Ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll probably slowly continue updating this story when the urge hits me.   
> If you like it let me know! Comments make my heart rejoice.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know if I want to continue this if I do it will be in third person instead of first person. 
> 
> If you love SpideyPool please consider joining my amino!   
> It’s an upcoming fun hangout spot for those who enjoy the ship!
> 
> http://aminoapps.com/c/BromanticSpideyPool


End file.
